In 1914, Ernest Shackleton set out to explore Antarctica aboard a ship called the Endurance. When you're heading into the most dangerous waters on earth, that seems like a good name. But the ice built up and began to crush the ship. Shackleton's men had reached the place they set out for, and now they had no ship. Months of brutal travel followed, across ice and in small boats. In the end, all twenty-eight men survived and were rescued.
The ship didn't endure. The people did. That story set the course for this Sunday's message at The River Church, because sometimes we get so focused on what's carrying us that we forget why we're on the journey at all. Without realizing it, we start to believe that if the ship doesn't make it, we won't make it either.
Storms Show Us What We're Leaning On
By Acts 27, the Lord had already told Paul that he would testify in Rome. Paul was now a prisoner under a centurion named Julius, and he was an experienced traveler by sea. In 2 Corinthians 11 he tells us he had already been shipwrecked three times. So when he warned that the voyage would bring disaster, it was worth listening. But the centurion trusted the pilot and the ship's owner, and the majority voted to try for Phoenix.
One verse later, a gentle south wind gave way to the Northeaster. The storm was so strong they could no longer steer, so they let it drive them. They used supports to hold the ship together. They feared drifting onto the Syrtis off North Africa. Then they threw the cargo overboard, and the ship's tackle after it.
The cargo wasn't bad. It had been the point of the voyage. But when the circumstances changed, what they carried had to change as well. That's a hard word for those of us who say we'll go anywhere with God and then add a quiet condition. As the message put it, “We say, Lord, I'll follow you anywhere, just not that way.”
“The storms of our lives often expose what we are dependent on.” It's one thing to say we trust God when everything is going according to plan. It's something else entirely to say it when the plan is falling apart. The sailors saw neither sun nor stars for many days, and without them they had no way to navigate. All hope was abandoned. But “just because they couldn't see the stars didn't mean the stars were gone.”
What Did God Actually Promise?
Into that darkness Paul stood up. After a brief and very human I-told-you-so, he delivered what may be the most important verse in the chapter: “There will be no loss of life among you, but only of the ship.”
God had not promised to stop the storm. He had not promised that everything would go back to the way it used to be. He said that the people would live and the ship would be lost. “God was committed to his promise. He was not committed to saving the ship.”
This is where Acts 27 gets personal. We can become upset with God over things He never said He would do. Before we declare that He has failed us, we ought to stop and ask what He actually said. Sometimes what looks like a broken promise is really a broken expectation. “God's promises are perfect. Our expectations are not.”
Paul also remembered something the storm could not take away. He spoke of the God to whom he belonged and whom he worshiped. His circumstances had changed, but his identity had not. If you belong to Jesus, that remains true for you too.
The Promise Arrives on an Unfamiliar Shore
When daylight came, they didn't recognize the land. They aimed for a beach and struck a reef. The bow stuck fast and the surf began breaking up the stern. The soldiers planned to kill the prisoners, but the centurion stopped them because he wanted to save Paul. Some swam, and others held on to planks and pieces of the ship. All 276 people came safely to land.
Think about that moment. If you were standing on the deck with the timbers cracking, you might well have concluded it was over. But the ship was breaking apart at the very moment God's promise was being fulfilled.
Many of us know this feeling. We asked God to lead us forward, and He did, and now we look around at a shoreline we never pictured. “We don't want to mistake unfamiliar with unfaithful.”
Letting Go of the Ship
Paul didn't say the ship was indestructible. He didn't say the weather was about to cooperate. His confidence rested in God alone. That's where ours has to rest as well, not in a plan or a method or a familiar way of doing things.
Those things may have served you well for years. Some of them may hold precious memories. But “good things make poor substitutes for our trust in God.” And “the faithfulness of God is not measured on how well our circumstances are being held together.”
So what are you holding on to? What did God actually promise you? It may be that the greatest step of faith in front of you is to open your hands and pray, “Lord, I trust you more than the way I thought it was supposed to work out.”
The ship broke apart. The promises held together. “The God who kept his word to Paul is still worthy of our trust today.”
We'd love to have you with us as we finish the book of Acts next Sunday. Watch the full message and plan your visit to The River Church.